


thirty-seven to the thirty-eight

by rrosebudd



Series: Winnie Odelle: Courier Six [6]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dead Money DLC, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Sierra Madre (Fallout)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 11:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21457246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rrosebudd/pseuds/rrosebudd
Summary: Courier Winnie Odelle survives the ordeal of the Sierra Madre, but only barely. Treasure in hand, she treks back home to meet her companions, who instantly notice that something has changed since she left. It takes their help, a good deal of time for her to recuperate.
Relationships: Female Courier/Veronica Santangelo
Series: Winnie Odelle: Courier Six [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/901629
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	thirty-seven to the thirty-eight

Why it didn’t occur to her that lugging thirty-seven gold bars across several miles of wasteland up to the Strip was going to be a difficult task, Winnie truly didn’t know. Maybe it was her stubbornness, or maybe her intelligence, or rather lack thereof, as it stood at an all-time high of four. Or maybe it was the fact that whatever the Mojave decided to throw at her would pale in comparison to the shit she’d faced in the past week. 

The familiar roads she trekked now were a breath of fresh air, to say the least, and quite literally, so would take her damn sweet time. And take her time she did, because, holy shit, those bars were heavy. The courier slogged up the path to the north, along the ninety-five and around countless NCR camps, all at a dismal pace. 

She had to dispatch a gecko or an ant here and there, pistol in one hand and gigantic sack of gold dragging along the dust in the other, but she wasn’t bothered. She’d go up against a deathclaw with a smile at this point. 

Hours passed before she found herself at last arriving at the Strip’s gate, the sun dipping low in the sky. The looks passersby gave her as she stumbled past were not entirely unnoticed, but her focus was elsewhere. The Lucky 38 entered her view of the horizon a while back, but it wasn’t until she stood at the base of the building she’d claimed as her home that she felt true relief hit her. 

Winnie stared up at the skyscraper with a sigh, the image a bit blurry, and somewhat swaying. Her eyes blinking slowly, and she almost felt like curling up there on the sidewalk for a nap. But she had people to see. 

Dragging both her feet and the impossibly heavy bag of gold alongside her, she stepped inside the casino. The several-step walk to the elevator felt just about as long as the miles had, but she made it, her hand lazily calling the elevator, and her whole body struggling inside as the doors slid open. 

Her grip on the sack loosened slightly upon the ding of the elevator beginning to rise to the presidential suite, and she slumped forward against the doors, taking deep breaths. Her forehead rested against the cool metal and her eyes shut just for a second. 

What was normally at least a full minute ride was shortened to a mere moment, for the doors suddenly opened, along with Winnie’s eyes. She stumbled forward with a shocked shout, as her balance was taken out from in front of her, but she somehow caught herself before going down, despite her daze. She blinked, reaching for the bag again, and stepped forward into the empty foyer of her apartment.

The room over, however, was occupied, as two of the courier’s companions sat across from one another at a table in the recreation room. A radio crackled quietly with the voice of Dean Martin, and a hand of cards was held in each pair of hands. 

Veronica’s chin was perched in her hand, and she chewed the inside of her cheek as she examined her fanned cards. “Fives?”

Arcade shook his head.

His opponent flopped her head down with a groan, and reached for the pile between them to draw a card.

“Aces,” Arcade raised a brow at her, barely even asking.

She narrowed her eyes in return. She took two cards from her hand and flicked them in

his direction. “You’re cheating.”

He picked up the cards and rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to cheat in Go Fish.”

Veronica tossed her deck to the table. “I wanna play Caravan.”

He looked to her flatly over the brim of his rectangular glasses. “Go Fish was your idea in the first pl-”

“Shh. Shush.” The scribe interrupted him, bringing a finger up to his face. “Do you hear that?”

Arcade’s mouth was open, but as she quieted him, he shut it and listened. 

There was silence, save for the slow droning snores coming from the soldier asleep on the couch next to them. Boone’s beret was draped over his face as he napped.

Arcade glanced to the ouch. Boone stirred, before snoring again, and the doctor looked incredulously in Veronica’s direction. “Yes.”

“Not that,” she sneered. “Just listen, I think it’s-”

“Hello?” came a hoarse voice from the foyer. “Anyone home?”

Arcade’s sardonic face fell away, and his head snapped up. “Is that…?”

“She’s back,” Veronica breathed, eyes wide, and she bolted to her feet. She shoved the table back, nearly knocking it into the stomach of the man opposite her, but Arcade was just as fast to rise. She darted to the door and into the lobby, while the doctor quickly made a stop by the couch, and urgently tapped the side of Boone’s legs. 

Boone twitched before being fully roused from his sleep, and his hands fumbled for the beret on his face. 

“Get up,” the doctor urged, as Boone shifted his cap back onto his head and reached for his sunglasses. 

He blinked awake, meeting Arcade’s gaze with his own unfocused one. “What…?”

“Six is back,” said Arcade, before he turned to dash out into the front room as well. 

Boone processed that, and a mere second later, was scrambling to his feet with a muttered “shit,” as he quickly got himself together to join the others. 

Veronica was the first to reach the foyer. She passed through the doorway and set eyes on her missing lover, and then ground to a halt. 

Winnie didn’t look at all the same as she had when she left. The courier was peering over into the guest rooms in search of any occupants in the house, but as she heard the presence of her companions, she turned to see them, her chest swelling again. She smiled weakly at Veronica, and Veronica’s heart broke. 

At first glance, there wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary about her appearance, but Veronica knew her better than that. She was smaller, thinner. Her armor was beat to hell, and didn’t fit right. Her face was gaunt, and pale, and freckled with dots of dried blood here and there. 

Most concerning to her girlfriend, however, were the deep half-moons that rested under Winnie’s eyes, dark indications of exhaustion that loosened her skin and only added to the skeletal look of her face. Paired with these were marks that circled her neck, angry and red and suffering from irritation. 

Veronica hovered in the doorway, taking in every single injury she could spot and wondering just how many more existed that she couldn’t see. Arcade came up behind her, and Boone beside him, each seeing the same disconcerting sight.

Winnie cleared her throat, and released her grip on a large bag at her side. “Um, hey,” she gave a short and faint laugh. “I know it’s been… a while, but, uh-”

Whatever she was about to say was knocked out of her lungs, as Veronica was suddenly in front of her, flinging her arms around her neck and squeezing her tight. “Oh my god,” she breathed, cupping the back of Winnie’s head with her hand. 

“No offense,” she began, a soft smile on her face and tears filling her eyes, “you look like absolute ass.”

Winnie laughed, genuine and light, for the first time in a while. “Yeah, I know,” she shut her eyes, lazily draping her arms around her lover’s back to hold her in turn, her forehead rested against Ronnie’s shoulder. “It’s my new style,” she murmured into her clothes with a dopey smile. 

Veronica held her like that for another couple seconds, before pulling away and holding Winnie’s cheeks in her palms. They were warm. “What… happened?” She spoke on a shaky exhale. 

“You disappeared,” Arcade spoke up, stepping into the room, his brow severely creased. She was a bad sight, especially to a doctor. “Where did you… go?”

Winnie leaned her head into Veronica’s hand, her eyelids fluttering as though wanting to shut. She sighed. “I guess Rex was the only one who saw, huh,” she chuckled groggily. 

Boone tagged behind Arcade, and he frowned. “He came back without you,” he stated. “Led us to this bunker south of Forlorn Hope. It was empty, except for a radio talking about-”

“The goddamn Sierra Madre,” Winnie chuckled, but it was bitter. “Yeah. I smashed that radio with a hammer the second I got back. Fuckin’ hate that thing.” 

“Got back from... the Sierra Madre?” Veronica clarified, dropping one hand, while the other held Winnie’s face as she continued to look her over. “How did you-?”

“Look, I would… love to tell the story, but I really need a bed,” she gave another weak breath of amusement. “I am… so fucking exhausted.” 

Veronica mirrored the small laugh, though hers was a bit tearful. “Jesus, when was the last time you slept?” 

The courier pursed her lips at that, and looked up to recall the events of the past couple days. “How… long have I been gone?”

Each companion spoke up, their words overlapping. 

“About nine days,” said Arcade.

“Eight and a half days,” Veronica interrupted.

“Since last Monday,” Boone muttered. 

Winnie nodded thoughtfully. “Then last Monday!” She beamed with mock pride and a thumbs-up. 

Veronica looked horrified, and Arcade stepped forward. “You haven’t slept in over a week?” He confirmed. 

Winnie nodded, counting again in her head. “Mhm. Unless, like, two-minute naps count?”

“They absolutely do not.” 

Winnie frowned. 

The scribe dropped her hand from Winnie’s face, and it felt cool as she did so. She glanced to the two male companions, and she stepped over to Boone, before standing on her toes to put the same hand to his cheek instead. His face was considerably less warm than Winnie’s. 

Boone monotonously stared at Veronica, his concern momentarily shifting from the courier’s sorry state to whatever she was doing. “Can I help y-?”

“I think she’s warm,” Veronica looked back over to Arcade, her brow scrunched up.

The doctor’s expression mirrored hers. “Winnie,” he gestured for her to step forward, and she did, though she was unsteady on her feet, and it showed. He rested the back of his hand against her forehead. She wiggled her shoulders impatiently. 

Arcade nodded. “Yeah, she’s definitely hot.”

Winnie clicked her tongue and smiled. “Oh, wow, I’m flattered.” She fanned her face sarcastically. “See, I knew this armor did wonders for my hips-”

“You’re running a fever, Winnie.” 

Her smile fell into a pout. “That’s less flirty.” 

Boone grunted. “I’ll get a cold compress,” he huffed and headed into the bathroom. 

Veronica nodded with a “good idea,” but Winnie waved them both off. “No, I’m fine, really, I just need some sleep.” She shrugged, shaking her head and taking a step to the bedroom, but she nearly toppled over. 

Arcade caught her arm. “Jesus,” he rolled his eyes as he steadied her on her feet. 

She narrowed her eyes at him, though it was obvious she didn’t have the energy to be genuinely annoyed. Winnie took her arm back and rolled her eyes as though to copy him. 

“Listen, I just gotta get these thirty-seven gold bars stowed away, and I’ll be-” She began to defend herself again, but was cut off again.   
“Sorry, what?” Arcade blinked. 

The courier put a hand on her hip. “No one’s allowed to finish a sentence in this house, apparently,” she snarked, but gestured behind her to the giant sack sitting by the elevator door. “There’s thirty-seven gold bars in there that I took from the casino.” She paused. “Thirty-six. I think I dropped one along the way,” she rambled, more to herself, as her companions looked on in awe, including Boone, who now stood in the doorway to the bathroom with a cloth in his hand. 

“And, like, I’m pretty sure it would crash the economy if I cashed them in, so please no one do that, because it’ll ruin the whole point I’m trying to make, and like-” Winnie waved her hand as she spoke, her words fast. 

“Then the old creep I trapped in the vault will have been right about greed being human nature and all the other preachy bullshit, which, by the way-” she pointed at Veronica, who was listening along with clear confusion. “We should definitely talk when we get the chance, because there’s a lot I found that we… should-”

Her words got slower, and she blinked a couple times, attempting to finish her sentence, but she didn’t get the chance to, as Winnie’s legs suddenly gave out under her. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she collapsed to the ground, the weight of her own body and the exhaustion within it suddenly too much for her feet to hold up anymore. 

Veronica jumped with a gasp as Winnie went down, a hand going to her mouth. “Oh, my god.”

Boone reacted the quickest, bolting over to the courier the second her head hit the floor, and he sank to his knees beside her. He shifted her shoulders so she was turned onto her back, before hooking his arms under her back and legs, and lifting her up into the air. 

“Arcade, clear the bed,” he instructed, standing back up with ease, as Winnie was not especially heavy, given her small frame and recent weight loss. The doctor was fast to comply, and he rushed into the master bedroom, stumbling over to the queen-sized mattress and gathering the excess bits of weapons and armor the courier couldn’t be bothered to put away. 

Veronica watched on with wide and watery eyes as Boone carried Winnie’s limb body over to the bed and gently laid her down. He took the damp cloth from his clenched fist and, with unsteady hands, laid it across Winnie’s forehead before straightening himself and stepping away with an exhale. 

As Arcade moved to the first aid kit on the wall to grab a purified water, Veronica sat at the very foot of the bed, studying Winnie’s face: the sweat beaded on her forehead, her agape lips, those fucking marks on her skin. 

Arcade placed the water down on the nightstand and leaned over the courier to put two fingers against her neck. 

Veronica fidgeted in her spot on the bed, grinding her teeth. “Is she alright,” she asked, voice low. 

The doctor shifted his jaw. “She will be, I’m sure,” he spoke up, though his own tone had a forced confidence to it, and Ronnie could tell. “Just overworked. I’ll keep an eye on her vitals.”

“Can we get a medic if something goes wrong? Like, if she doesn’t wake up soon,” she barely let him finish, her voice wavering. Something already had, truly, but the hope was still there. 

“She might be out for a while. It’ll be fine. This isn’t the worst she’s gotten herself into,” he assured, and his voice was curt, though it was obvious neither of them believed that. He brushed Winnie’s fringe back and adjusted the cold compress on her head. 

Veronica wasn’t satisfied with that, it seemed. “But she’s-” she interjected again, but paused with a grimace. “What the hell happened to her neck-”

“I don’t know,” he cut her off sharply. Veronica shut her mouth.

Arcade shook his head and ran a hand down his face. His movements were unsteady. “Just-” He put a hand up, and Ronnie took a step back. “She’ll be fine. Give her some space to breathe, and she’ll be up soon.” He spoke slowly, almost as though attempting to drill the words into both of their heads. 

Veronica ground her teeth, her brow creased. But she nodded. “Right,” she breathed. She took a step back and hovered in the doorway. Her eyes couldn’t leave the marks on her girlfriend’s face, and she instead had to tear her gaze away. She turned and left the room. 

The doctor let out a shaky sigh. His hand absentmindedly went to Winnie’s as he looked her over once more in the solitude of the master bedroom. His shoulders were heavy, and his eyes were sad. 

He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, the courier’s beaten and broken frame causing his stomach to churn. He sighed. 

“What the hell did you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> its been a full yeAR and a HALF since ive posted fic on this account, mostly due to me writing fics for rpgs that no one cares about reading, but here was my little reunion with new vegas that i missed writing for <3 thank you for reading!


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